Hell to Pay
by Psychic1515
Summary: Immediately following Free Fall, consequences surface for everyone to suffer, Richie looks to cut the ties that bind him to his, but somebody won't let him.
1. Chapter 1

Hell to Pay

After a very short while, the sky had filled with clouds and now it was pouring down rain. Richie found that with every step he took now, he risked tripping and drowning himself. But he didn't care, he couldn't slow down, he had to keep running, he had to get away, away from Mac, away from Tessa, away from everybody because he knew he was no longer welcome in their lives.

He knew he'd made a mistake by interfering with the fight, but he just couldn't let Mac take Felicia's head. Why had he stopped the fight? He didn't know, he already knew what a lying bitch Felicia was and that she had only used him. She didn't love him, she didn't care about him, she was ready to kill him, and Tessa, and Duncan, so why did he stop the fight? Why did he beg Mac to spare her life? He didn't have the answer, and he didn't need one, because it didn't matter, because he'd already ruined any chance he had of going back to them.

His foot connected with something, causing him to trip and he fell face first into the cold, muddy water. He tried to lift his head up but it felt like somebody hit him over it with a pipe or something, so he laid it back down, as he did so his forehead met with something. He raised his head enough to see a pair of white sneakers in front of him.

"Richie."

Connor, dammit! Richie groaned and lowered his head again, this time on its side, just great, Duncan must've sent Connor to get rid of him. Just what he needed, an Immortal hit squad.

"Richie, are you allright?"

Connor sounded confused, even worried, that surprised Richie, what was going on?

When he didn't move fast enough to get himself up, Connor knelt down, grabbed Richie by the waist and pulled him up. "I'm sorry about that, Richie, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Richie quickly came to the realization that Connor wasn't here to make him a greasy spot in the pavement, and he didn't know how to respond, so he didn't, he was too embarrassed and shocked to speak.

"What's the matter, Richie? Are you hurt?"

Richie finally managed to shake his head as an answer, he was thankful for the rain and the darkness, he felt it camouflaged well the tears that were building up in his eyes. Connor grabbed Richie's wrist and pulled him in the same direction he was going, after a few minutes, Richie saw something come into view, something familiar, even seen in the dark. It was Connor's car, the door on the driver's side was open and the headlights were shining but looked almost burnt out.

"I thought I saw you down the road, so I came to check, does Duncan know you're out in this weather?"

Richie tried to answer but couldn't form the words, so it just came out as a bunch of moans. Connor stopped Richie once they came to the front of the car, he tried to get a look at him in the car's dying headlights but it didn't amount to much good.

"I can't find anything wrong---Richie, can you tell me what happened?"

The tears were running down Richie's face now and he knew his cover was blown, but he was too far gone to care. "I fucked up, Connor—I really fucked up…"

Connor's expression was unreadable, though to Richie's surprise it did appear to contain a hint of sympathy. "Get in the car, Richie."

"W-w-where're we going?" he asked.

"First we're going to wait until you calm down and can tell me what's going on, and then---"

"Don't take me back, Connor, please!" Richie practically lunged at him and grabbed handfuls of Connor's jacket. "I can't go back!"

"Shhhhhh, Richie, it's okay, it's allright," Connor carefully placed his hands on Richie's arms and tried to keep them at his side, "We're going to go somewhere where we won't be bothered…too much."

"What do you mean?" Richie asked.

Connor moved his hands so he held one at Richie's stomach and the other at his back. "I'm going to go on a limb and guess you haven't eaten yet, correct?"

Richie nodded.

"Well I know a place that stays open late, and by this hour there won't be too many people there – and once we get there, you can tell me what's going on, allright?"

Richie nodded again, and Connor helped him into the car. Once they took off, Richie slumped down in his seat and closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, this whole night was turning into a bigger mess by the minute. He couldn't think, he didn't know what was going to happen next but he just knew that it would be trouble all the way.

Richie came to when he felt something shaking him, he woke up and saw Connor with his hand on Richie's shoulder.

"What is it?" Richie asked.

"We're here," he said.

Richie looked through the rain and the moving windshield wipers and saw a large neon sign, an all-night diner.

"Is the food good?" Richie asked. Suddenly his stomach was feeling like he hadn't eaten in a week.

"Let's just say you'll never see the board of health marching in to complain," Connor said, "Are you feeling better?"

Richie nodded weakly, "A little."

"You'll feel better once you get something to eat, come on."

They got out of the car and dashed in to avoid getting anymore soaked than they already were. Once they got inside, Richie saw the lights were low, and as Connor said, very few people were in currently, and those who were seemed to be minding their own business.

"Let's go to the back, we can talk in the closest thing to private there," Connor told him.

Richie followed Connor to a booth at the far back of the diner, nobody else was sitting anywhere near them, Connor slipped into one booth and Richie seated himself in the other. The first thing Richie did once he sat down was lay his head on his folded arms and close his eyes, he still felt terrible about what happened and he wasn't sure what Connor was going to do when he found out.

"Mister Nash, are you back in town?" a waitress asked as she came up to their table.

"Well I'm not having an outer body experience if that's what you mean," he replied, "How's business going, Agnes?"

"Same rate the coffee's pouring at, slow – what can I get you two?"

"I'll have the usual, and my nephew will have---" Connor grabbed Richie by the hair and lifted his head up so he could look him in the face, "What are you having, Richie?"

"I don't care," Richie tiredly responded and laid his head back down.

"We've been out all through the town today," Connor told the waitress, "We're both dead tired only my nephew seems to be more so than I am – about all we want right now is some food and some sleep, but I hope we don't get both at the same time. Well, I know my nephew is none too picky about what he eats, so bring him the usual too."

"Coming right up."

After she left, Richie looked up at Connor through one opened eye. "What's the usual anyway?"

"You'll find out soon enough---now, you want to tell me what happened or am I going to be picking your brain all night?" Connor asked.

"You mean Mac hasn't told you yet?" Richie asked.

"Duncan doesn't know I'm here—I've been in town for a few weeks, restoring a house I bought, but I didn't tell him I was coming, for all he knows, I'm still back in New York."

"Well, there was this lady," Richie started.

"I see."

Richie's eyebrows met his bangs, "Connor!"

"Well what can I say? Duncan talks my ears off telling me about you, and what you do you can practically set your watch by. So what happened?"

"She---she came to the shop, and she seemed out of it, I mean way out of it, Connor, she didn't know how she got there, or what she was doing, and she was bleeding, and by the time I came back with some bandages, she was gone. She went to the top of a building, and threw herself off, dropped 700 feet, but she didn't stay dead."

"Oh boy."

"Yeah – she got out of the morgue and came back to the shop, and she was hysterical—she asked me for help, she begged me—Mac found her, and he told her everything about Immortals and the Gathering—and so he started teaching her how to fight, but—"

"What?"

"It was all a sham, Connor – she was an old Immortal, maybe even as old as Mac, she wanted to kill him, and she used me as the bait for it – and – she sent me off on a wild goose chase to her apartment. Then Mac showed up, and they fought, and---"

"He took her head?"

"No—he was ready to, he could've done it, he would've, but I stopped him," Richie said, "Even now, I don't know why I did it – she lied to us, she used me, she tried to kill us –

but I stopped the fight, and I don't know why. I just don't know, I've been trying to think of a reason, one good reason why Mac should've let her live – but I can't."

"You don't have any idea how often that mistake can be made with Immortals," Connor said.

"But I knew what she was, I knew she was trouble, plain and simple – so why did I make him spare her life?"

"That's a question that Immortals have been asking themselves since their beginning of letting enemies walk," Connor replied.

"Anyway, now---Mac is so pissed about what happened, I mean this is really it, Connor, I've crossed the line."

"How do you know? What did he say?" Connor asked.

"Nothing, that's just it," Richie said, "No matter what I've done since I moved in with them, even when Mac was screaming at me, I knew that it would blow over, it always does – but tonight, when he walked away, he didn't say a word to me, I tried talking to him, I tried to say something, but I didn't know what to say, and even though I tried, he didn't have anything to say to me. That's how I know I can't go back."

Richie hung his head low in defeat. He felt Connor's hand stroke the hair on the back of his head, and a few seconds later, two plates were put on the table with fried pork chops, baked potatoes, steamed vegetables, two bowls of raw fruit, and two glasses of water. After the waitress left, Richie picked his head up again and stared at his food for a while.

"Richie, I'm sure it's not as bad as you're making it out to be," Connor said.

"I have never known Mac to get so mad he doesn't say anything---but I've been around people who got like that before, and there was no going back."

"But Duncan's not like other people."

"It doesn't matter, Connor, there are some things that no matter who you run into, it's all the same, and now—I can't go back, Connor, I just can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm too scared about what might happen—what they might say, that's providing they'd even still speak to me."

"Richie, I've known Duncan a lot longer than you have, I know how easy it is for him to hurt somebody, but the thing of it is that Duncan doesn't always know that he does it."

Richie started picking at his food and some of it actually managed to find a way to his mouth. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he, like everybody else, will say things, do things, that solely happen to hurt other people, but he doesn't realize that that's what it does."

"But Connor---"

"Don't worry about Duncan, he may be upset now and he might have a reason to be, but within time he'll cool off and things will return to normal," Connor insisted.

"No," Richie shook his head, "Not this time – I just know it, nothing's ever going to be normal between us again, so it's best that I don't go back."

"Richie calm down, you're being ridiculous."

Richie lowered his head and shook it, "I can't go back, I can't bear to look at them, I can't stand what they might say—I just can't."

Connor was starting to understand what was happening here, but he said nothing, and from there they finished their dinner in silence. After the main dinner, Richie started picking up bread rolls from a bowl kept in the center of the table and started stuffing himself on them one at a time. Connor watched in awe, wondering the entire time where Richie put it all, and after he had four rolls, Connor moved the bowl back and said, "You're a machine, Richie, you can't still be hungry."

"What now?" Richie asked.

Connor glanced at his watch, "It's getting late, and you look like you're about ready to drop."

"We're not going back," Richie said in a panic.

"Of course not," Connor calmly replied, "We're going to my home, the one I've spent the last three weeks putting back together. There's not too much there right now except for the bare necessities, but I think you'll like it."

"Okay."

* * *

Richie was already asleep by the time they pulled up to the house, Connor couldn't get him to keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds, so he had to basically half drag half carry Richie up to the driveway, up the stairs, and through the front door. From there, Richie stumbled around in the dark and made his way into the living room and onto a large couch to sleep on.

"What do you think you're doing?" Connor asked once he got the lights on and could see him.

Richie opened one eye and tried to think of an answer.

"There's a perfectly good bed in a perfectly good guest room upstairs that you can use, now come on and let's go," Connor said as he pulled Richie to his feet.

"Connor?"

"Yes, Richie?"

"How long can I stay with you?"

"As long as it takes, laddie, as long as it takes."

"But Connor—"

"Don't worry about a thing, Richie, everything's going to be allright, of that I promise you. Now let's get you up to your room so you can go to sleep."

Richie followed Connor up the stairs and over to the first room on the right at the top of the stairs, when Connor turned on the light, Richie was too tired to observe the room itself, he headed straight for the bed, and as soon as he laid on it, he closed his eyes.

He felt Connor removing his shoes and bringing back the covers, then settling him down and tucking him in as if he were a small child. At any other time, he would've been embarrassed by it all, or rather insisted he could do it himself, but tonight, he was too tired. Richie heard Connor explain that his room was right across the hall, and if he needed him, that's where he could be found, and Richie nodded in response and turned on his side and tried to go to sleep. Just when he thought he was finally slipping into unconsciousness, he felt something, it was a kiss. He felt Connor kiss him on the forehead, and then he heard Connor say, "Sleep well, laddie, I promise everything will be allright, I love you."

Richie put on his best act of sleeping for all he was worth, after he heard the door close and he was sure Connor wouldn't be coming back in, Richie sat up in the bed and tried to figure out what had just happened. It had sent icy chills up and down his spine and made his heart jump into his throat, because although it was a first time coming from Connor, Richie had gone through the same thing before. Some nights when Duncan though he was asleep, he would sneak into Richie's room for whatever reason, Richie had guessed to see if he was actually still there and not packed up and left in the middle of the night, and he would stay for a short while watching him "sleep", and just before he left, he kissed Richie goodnight and said in a very low whisper that he loved him, so as not to wake him.

Of course, Richie reminded himself, that was then and this was now, and that wouldn't happen again, not ever again. He knew what he was saying when he told Connor that he couldn't go back, even if he tried to go back, he would not be welcome there, not that he could blame Duncan and Tessa for not wanting him after the trouble he caused them. All the trouble he'd put them through, and the things he'd said to Tessa, he hadn't meant for them to, but thinking back, he was certain that he'd hurt Tessa with his remarks of having time on his side, instead of her.

Of all the times in his life that he could pick to be an idiot, the last few days really took the cake. He was the biggest idiot alive and he hadn't even figured that out until just now, he'd blown his last chance at a semi-normal life with a semi-normal family who was nice and who actually wanted him. After what he'd put them through with Felicia…after all, he was the one who was ready to put her up in his room before Duncan even found out about her, he didn't listen to Tessa even when she said that she knew a hundred women like Felicia, and that last fatal error of jumping in at the last minute, begging Duncan to spare her life.

Richie wasn't even aware that he was crying, he just continued to mentally pummel himself for being stupid enough to ruin the one good thing he had going for him. What he didn't know was that as he continued to do so, he had an audience.

* * *

Without even looking over at the clock, Tessa could perfectly guess the correct time, being 12:08, this she knew because it was two minutes past the last time she looked. Duncan had come home exhausted and in no mood to talk, and when she asked about Richie's whereabouts, he had no answer and didn't even try to assure her that everything was allright as he was notorious for when she worried.

When Duncan had gone to bed and Richie still hadn't returned, Tessa had really started worrying, but Duncan insisted that he would return home whenever he was ready to, so not to worry and go to sleep. And here he was dead to the world, Tessa swore she could light firecrackers in his underwear and he wouldn't wake up, whereas she was never anymore wide awake than she was now. Laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for morning was not too highly a recommended method for spending nights, and Tessa was finding it getting her nowhere. On the other hand, she knew it would do her little good to go out looking for Richie, for one thing she seldom knew who his friends were or even how to contact them, any place she knew that he might go would already be closed by now, and any that was still open he would've already left and nobody would know where he was off to next.

However lying in bed was doing her no good and she knew she couldn't spend all night like this, so she did the first thing that came to mind. Ordinarily she thought, this would only be done in movies, but it was an idea and she intended to go through with it. She carefully slipped out of bed so as to not wake Duncan, and she quietly walked over to her dresser and picked up her keys, careful to hold them in the right place so they wouldn't jangle and wake Duncan. Then she went to the closet and pulled one of her more casual outfits off the hanger, picked up a pair of her shoes and headed for the bathroom. She made the best of dressing herself in the dark, then with her keys in her hand she quietly and slowly made her way down the stairs, and out the front door. Maybe she wouldn't find Richie, but she would be damned if she was just going to lounge in bed and wait for him to finally come back.


	2. Chapter 2

Tessa was certain that before the night would be over, she would be found in the hospital, or perhaps at the morgue, listed under automobile fatality. She was so tired and she had been searching for Richie for so long, everything was getting blurry, she couldn't read the street signs or the neon signs on the buildings, or even the numbers on the speed limit. She pulled to a stop and checked her watch, it was almost one o' clock in the morning, in her near hour-long search for Richie she had searched every street for she couldn't remember how many miles. She had gone into all night diners and movies and even checked the bars, asking if anybody matching Richie's description had came in during the night, all to no avail.

When that failed, she checked out his old neighborhood, checking every street corner, every back alley, behind every shrub, up every tree, on the balconies and fire escapes of some apartment buildings, even gone to the neighbors who were still awake and asked around. Nobody had seen him. At any other time maybe, maybe, she thought, the police would be an option, but not now, certainly not now. The police were still trying to tie Richie in with Felicia's Jane Doe untimely and unconventional death, if she told them he had disappeared they would find him guilty for sure.

For a moment, Tessa considered going back home and seeing if Richie had returned before her, but she decided against it. If Richie were home, he would still be there by morning, but right now she had a gut feeling that he was still out there somewhere and she had to find him. She wouldn't get any answers from Duncan, she would get no help from the police, she was on her own and she was either going to find Richie or die trying.

* * *

Richie opened his eyes and saw somebody hovering over him and he screamed, only then realizing that it was Connor. 

"Hello sleeping beauty," he said.

"What's going on?" Richie asked, "What time is it?"

"One thirty," Connor replied, "What is the matter with you, Richie? When we got here, I couldn't keep you awake long enough to get up the porch stairs by yourself, now you're in bed and you don't sleep."

"I'm sorry – I had a nightmare."

"What about, or do I know already?" Connor asked.

Richie nodded, "Mac, he—" Richie's whole body shook as he remembered the dream, "He found me, and he—he was—I swear never before have I done anything to make him as mad as he was then."

"It was only a dream, Richie, just a dream and nothing more, and come morning you'll find that out," Connor said.

Richie shook his head, "I'm not going back tomorrow, I can't."

"Richie, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Let's say for argument's sake, Duncan is mad at you, he's furious with you—how many times before has he been that way?"

"Too many to count."

"And weren't you always allowed before to return home?"

"You're new at this, right? Other times, Mac wouldn't let me out of the house to begin with."

"So what makes this time so different?" Connor asked, "I may not be a genius but I'm not so stupid that I'd believe this is the first time you disobeyed them."

"But it's different, this is the first time I did when an Immortal was involved."

Connor laughed, "And do you want me to tell you of all the times Duncan got himself into those same messes, and he had to get himself out of them, or better yet, the times I had to get him out?"

"It'd make me feel better," Richie answered.

"Allright, let's see—where do I begin? If I tell you all of them, we could be here for a month."

"Connor—"

"What?"

"When are you going back to New York?" Richie asked.

Connor sort of gave him a half smile, "Why? You want to come with me?"

"If you'll take me---" Richie answered almost too quietly to even be heard.

"Sure, why not?" Connor responded, "A couple weeks in New York could do you some good, a nice vacation."

"I don't mean vacation," Richie replied, "I mean to—to live out there, for a while."

"You know, the women must find you irresistible in times of crisis, you're cute when you're paranoid. Richie, what is the absolute worst that could happen if you go back? Tell me that, what could happen that is so horrible, that it's better to avoid going home altogether?"

"You wouldn't understand," Richie said.

"Oh wouldn't I? Didn't Duncan ever tell you about me? I was struck down dead at your age, and when I returned to life, my whole clan threw me out—actually if they had had it their way, I would've been one blackened crispy critter, and that wasn't exactly how I had figured my own people would treat me. So they banished me, chased me out of my homeland and from there on out, anybody who had known me, denied they knew who I was because they thought I was a demon of some sort. Now, between the two of us, who do you really think has the worst outcome?"

"It's different, Connor—you don't know what it's like to—"

"To what?"

"Look, when you were growing up, you had your whole clan, everybody knew you, they knew you were something important, they knew you would be a great warrior, what have I had? Nothing, that's what, nobody expected anything of me and few people even wanted to admit they knew me. I was always known around the neighborhood as the Grade A idiot, everything I did turned out to be a mess, and that's what it was when I broke into the store, another mess. But after that, it wasn't so bad, it was like finally, finally for the first time in my life, I'm expected to do something other than ruin my life. Finally, I'm with people who actually give a damn about me, and they're people that I'm on the level with. But what do I do? The same thing I've done all my life, find a perfect way to mess it up, and now it's over. And if I go back now—they're not going to want me, they probably won't even speak to me."

"But you don't know that," Connor said.

"No, and I also don't know which is worse, them not saying anything to me, or them having plenty to say, and it's the same stuff I've always heard, "Get out and don't come back, you're not wanted around here anymore". Do you know how many times I've heard that, Connor? If I have to hear it one more time from people who I thought I stood a chance with---"

"Now don't go getting yourself all worked up, otherwise you'll never get any sleep," Connor said, "Look, Richie, I've known Duncan a lot longer than you have, I know how much of a pain in the ass he can be, but believe me, he always comes around, his guilt always sees to that, and guilt is one thing that a Scotsman is well known for."

"What about you?" Richie asked.

"I could tell you about that and we'd be here until New Year's---but listen to me, Richie, do you want to go home?"

"Connor, I told you, I can't–"

"This isn't a matter of can or can't, Richie, do you _want_ go to home?"

"Yes, more than anything."

"Then you will, just not tonight, first we'll get through tonight, and then come morning I'll straighten this whole mess out, believe me."

"Okay."

"Good, now go back to bed, you need to get some sleep before the bags under your eyes snap into alligator suitcases."

Richie laid back down and Connor brought the covers up again, and he went to kill the lights when Richie spoke.

"Connor, do you really think you can?"

Connor turned back around and looked at him, "I'm positive, you see Richie, in all my years, I've mastered a foolproof method of conversation where Duncan is concerned."

"Oh."

"Richie, do you know why Duncan's as hard on you as he is?"

"Yeah, because I don't do anything right."

"No that's not it—it's because he sees a lot of himself in you, so he expects you to act as he would—but that's not fair for you because you can't be him—and that's something that he's going to have to learn and soon and I'm going to make sure that he does."

The lights went out and Connor moved for the door. "Goodnight, Richie."

"Goodnight."

* * *

Some time during the night, the rain had started again, and now it was coming down in whole sheets, beating down on the car windshield, and the wipers did little good at removing the water so Tessa could see where she was going. 

By now she couldn't remember what road she was on, or what street, in what part of town, or even where she was going. She glanced down at the speedometer to see how fast she was going and when she realized she was still within the limit she looked back up and straight ahead, just in time to see a familiar figure, Felicia Martins, standing out in the middle of the street. Tessa stomped on the brake but before it took effect, Tessa saw Felicia throw herself onto the hood of the car.

Tessa screamed as she woke up, and when she realized she'd dozed off while still driving, she slammed on the brake and took her keys out of the ignition. For about the last half hour her head kept dropping down and she'd close her eyes for a second and then remember where she was and keep on driving, this time it had lasted a bit longer, and Tessa immediately realized that had she slept any longer, she would be dead by now.

She knew that it was a futile attempt to continue searching for Richie tonight, and it was equally hopeless to get back home to go to bed, so she laid herself out in the front seat and tried to relax—tried to get that image of Felicia out of her memory—tried to sleep. It was already going on three in the morning, if the rain would let up in the next couple of hours, the sun would be up near six, and once she woke up, she could go back and see if he ever came home. She silently prayed that he was allright and that that would be exactly where he was.

But then, a very unpleasant thought came to mind, Richie might be safe, but she was out here practically a sitting duck for Felicia if she was in fact still out there. One thing that she had managed to get out of Duncan was that the fight had ended because Richie came into it at the last minute, and begged him not to kill her. Tessa couldn't understand it, but she didn't think it was anything to hold against Richie – for one thing he really had thought that he loved Felicia, and that she loved him, enough that she wanted the both of them to go away somewhere. For another thing, both Tessa and Richie were still relatively new to the whole idea of Immortals beheading each other, and the idea was quite disturbing, and while Richie didn't let on, Tessa suspected it bothered him about as much as it did her.

As the fatigue one the battle with her body, Tessa thought one final thing before she fell asleep, she made a solemn promise to herself that if Felicia came back, and came after Richie, if she so much as put one hand on him, she'd make the woman wish she had died hundreds of years ago when she was supposed to. And then something else woke her up again, if Felicia were out there, and she came by on this road, and she saw the car she would recognize it, and if she found Tessa in it, she would kill her. Now Tessa was wishing that when she had picked up her keys she had also picked up something she could use to defend herself with. She started sitting up but her hand met with something on the floor under the seat, something that felt strangely familiar, Tessa grabbed it and pulled it up to see what it was – it was Richie's pocketknife.

Now Tessa remembered, a few days after the last time he rode with her, Richie said that he couldn't find it. While she hadn't been too thrilled before about him carrying it around, she was thankful now that he did. She put it where she could grab it and in a hurry if she had to, it wasn't much but at least it gave her a chance at surviving if she met with Felicia again.

* * *

Richie heard somebody talking to him and he opened his eyes, and once again he saw Connor hovering over him – but now it was in daylight so he knew it was him already. 

"Good morning sleeping beauty," Connor said, "Have a good night?"

"I think so---what time is it?"

"Little after six."

Richie squinted his eyes almost completely shut against the sunlight. "Bright."

"Yes it is—are you hungry yet?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Good, breakfast is on the stove and should be done in a few minutes."

Richie sat up in the bed and that was quite an effort in itself, he felt like he'd been hit by a truck. "I guess I must've slept heavy last night."

"I should say so—about half an hour after you went back to bed, it started pouring down rain, it was beating against the siding of the house—and you never even moved during that time – dead to the world."

Connor turned and left and headed downstairs, Richie rolled off the bed and got himself up and after he made the bed, he followed. Now that he was wide awake, he saw that the house was one of the largest ones he'd seen in his life. Every room looked twice the size of the ones he'd lived in growing up, with twice the windows and half the garbage. As he headed down the stairs, he still couldn't get over how large everything was.

"Connor?" Richie heard no response and called again, "Connor?"

"In here, Richie," he heard Connor call from somewhere in the house.

Richie did his best to follow the sound of his voice and after passing five other rooms found himself in the kitchen.

"What exactly was this house before you restored it, the Taj Mahal or something?" Richie asked.

"No, actually it was the Presbyterian Church but it was closed up a few years ago and offered to anyone who wanted to shell out $22,000 on it."

"They were that desperate to get rid of it?" Richie asked.

"They were that anxious to get some quick money and blow town," Connor replied.

"Church – church, oh, I get it," Richie said, "This is that thing that Mac was talking about, that Immortals can't fight on holy ground, but – does it still count as holy ground since you turned it into a bed and breakfast?"

"Eat your food before it gets cold," Connor replied.

Richie looked at his food, hot cereal, though now it was probably borderline cold cereal. He picked up a fork and started eating it, but about halfway through the first two bites, he came to a conclusion. "Connor—not to disrespect your cooking, but this oatmeal tastes pretty weird."

"I'm sure it does," Connor replied, "Those are grits."

"Grits?" Richie swallowed the serving roughly, "No wonder—hey wait a minute, how come you're not eating? You trying to poison me or something?"

"Why? You want to know why I'm not eating, I had five forks of that stuff before it was even cooked—why do you think I'm not eating it now?"

"Sorry I asked," Richie replied, "So uh—have you talked to Mac yet?"

"No, I don't think they'd be up this early."

"Well—I think it would be better if you didn't," Richie said.

"What?" Connor asked, "What are you talking about?"

"You really think that Mac's going to get past this? That he's going to move on from it? Okay, maybe you're right, but all the same—I think I should just crash here for a few days and give him time to cool down. After the stunt I pulled last night, he'll probably be fuming all week."

"I seriously doubt that—however if you'd prefer to stay here for the time being, that's allright with me, I still have a little touch-up work to do."

"Oh—"

"What is it?"

"I just remembered, all my stuff's back at the loft."

"Not to worry, since I've been moonlighting these past three weeks as a plumber, electrician, mechanic, roofer, and escort service, I think I can squeeze in pack mule as well."

"I'm really sorry, Connor—I know you probably got a hundred better things to do than have to put up with me right now."

"Don't worry about it, what's the matter with you, Richie, don't you ever watch the Mafia movies? Family is the most important thing."

Richie finished his meal in silence and then something else came to mind. "Exactly how many people were you planning to have here?"

"Well I figured it would be smart to make sure there were rooms ready for the four of us incase we have to move our visit to somewhere with more space. So I already have three rooms ready for company for certain, the other rooms I'm trying to decide what to do with them—you want a grand tour?"

"Sure, if I'm going to be staying here, I might as well have some idea of where the hell I'm going."

Connor showed Richie the kitchen, the living room, the dining room, the sitting room, the three bathrooms, the three bedrooms, and several other rooms that were restored but unaccounted for. After the brief tour, Connor told Richie to stay in the house, he would return soon with some of Richie's things to get him through the next few days.

* * *

Tessa slowly awoke as the sunlight became too painful for her eyes, even through closed lids. As she opened them however, she saw another good reason to get up, there was a police officer knocking on the window to the door on the driver's side. She sat up and rolled down the window, not enough that he could reach in, just enough so she could hear him. "Yes?" 

"Is everything allright, ma'am?"

"I'm fine," Tessa quickly came up with a response, "I had to pull over last night, during the storm—I fell asleep and that was all."

"You would've been better off checking into a motel, there's one not far off from here that's just—"

"I know what there is in this town, I'm not a stranger to it," Tessa said, "Now if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way, good day officer."

The officer didn't have anything further to add and it was just as well because Tessa wasn't waiting around for a response. Now that it was morning, she was going home and she was going to find out if Richie did in fact return during the night, and if not, she would pick up her search again.

* * *

It wasn't even 8 o' clock in the morning and already this was one of the worst days Duncan could recall having. First he woke up feeling hung over, then he found both Richie and Tessa were gone, and before he could even wonder about their whereabouts, an Immortal had come around and was at the door. With his katana in hand, Duncan made his way to the door, he unbolted it, slowly drew it back, and without warning, Connor jumped into sight from out of nowhere. 

"Are you any good at riddles?" he asked.

"Connor," Duncan breathed a sigh of relief, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm the one asking the questions, are you any good at riddles?"

"What?" Duncan couldn't figure out what he was saying, "I suppose so, why?"

"Good, then maybe you can tell me this one—why is my nephew afraid to set foot back here?"

"What? You mean Richie?"

"Yes that's who I mean," Connor replied, "I found him last night during the storm, and he was a mess—he's still not quite back to normal yet—at least I don't think—anyway I was hoping you could explain just what you've done to him, that he is too scared to come back here?"

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about, Connor!" Duncan exploded.

"Yeah well I didn't think you might—all I know is that that boy spent a better part of last night crying himself to sleep, because he is convinced for some reason, that he can't come back here."

"Where is he now, Connor?" Duncan asked.

"Don't worry, he's tucked away safe somewhere—though for the time it's also probably fortunate that it's someplace you haven't been yet."

"Connor—"

"Richie told me about the woman, Duncan, he told me about the fight, he even told me about stepping in to stop you—and let me tell you, going by his reaction, I probably wouldn't want to come home to you either, but not for the same reason. Richie is terrified of coming back here because he's got it through his head that you hate him, is he wrong?"

"Connor, how long have you known me?" Duncan asked.

"Answer the question—is he wrong?"

"Of course he is, I never said I didn't want him."

"That's just it," Connor replied, "When you left last night, you didn't say a thing, not one word to the boy. Do you know what that did to him? It's been a repeated pattern as a sign of the end of a good thing—of all the times you choose to keep your mouth shut—last night wasn't the time for it."

"What are you talking about?" Duncan asked.

"I'm saying that that boy's more afraid of you not saying anything to him at all, rather than when you yell your head off—he's afraid of what you have to say, Duncan, he's scared to death that if he comes back, he's going to face the same bad news that he's heard countless times in his life already. That's why he hasn't come back in case you were wondering, he's scared, of you, and Tessa, and what you might tell him, that's considering you'd even bother to speak to him," Connor said.

"Connor, you're not making any sense, now what is going on?" Duncan asked.

"Last night I found Richie and he was alone in the rain and he was running—had nowhere to go, nobody to turn to but he just ran. He didn't want to come back because he was afraid that it would make things even worse between you—he begged me not to bring him home because he's afraid of what you'll say to him—he's already convinced you don't want to see him again, but he can't bring himself to actually hear what you have to say, because that would be too much for him."

"You weren't here, Connor, you didn't see what happened."

"No I didn't, but I think Richie covered everything."

"Just about—there's something that he didn't tell you, because he had no way of knowing it."

"What's that?"

"Felicia tried to kill Tessa—that was her battle plan, take out everything in an Immortal's life so he's left with nothing, makes it easier to kill them."

"And that is Richie's fault how? Duncan, he had no way of knowing anything when she first came around—even when you came and found she was Immortal, he still had no expectations. He thought she was new to the Game, so he didn't know that she was a cold blooded killer, he had no way of knowing, none of you did, so why are you mad at him?"

"I'm not mad at him—I'm just disappointed."

"In him? Why, for stopping the fight?"

"He knew what she was," Duncan said, "He knew no good would come from her, so why did he stop the fight?"

"He's still trying to figure that out, and he's still beating himself up for doing it and he's still hating himself for doing it because he thinks that has guaranteed that he is no longer welcome here. Now, I want you to look me dead in the eyes and tell me that he's wrong."

Duncan looked at Connor and said, "He's wrong, Connor."

"Both eyes, Duncan."

"Connor! What do you want me to do?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out—and while I am, I came to get some of his things, don't bother pointing my in the direction, I'll find his room myself."

Duncan was still trying to comprehend everything Connor was saying and he followed him up to the loft and into Richie's bedroom.

"I never said he couldn't come back, I never said I didn't want him to come back—"

"And what did you say? Nothing, which left Richie to assume the worst, and you didn't do anything to assure him that it hadn't come to that. Duncan, you may be doing something right to see 400 but you have a hell of a lot to learn about raising kids."

"Richie is 18 years old."

"I know how old he is, I also know that if you chip away that tough act of his, although it would take a crowbar to do so, you'll find that there's little more there right now than a scared child who sees it as his only hope at a good life with a good family has just been blown to pieces." Connor talked as he packed Richie's bag with a few things to get him through about the next week. "He's going to be staying with me for a while because he needs some time to recover and you need some time to cool off and figure just what you're going to do. Because I don't want you making things worse than they already are when you finally speak with Richie."

"You're not going to leave me here with no idea of where he is, Connor, I'm going with you."

"No you're not," Connor replied.

"Yes I am."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"No you're not, and that is the end of this conversation."

"And what was it you told me? Always taking the easy way out?" Duncan asked.

"Duncan."

"What?"

Connor turned around and threw his right fist at Duncan, who stopped it with his own hand, but little good it was because that was a ploy to get Duncan's attention away from Connor's left hand, which balled into a fist, collided with Duncan's face, knocking him out.

"It takes a while to get right, but as I told Richie, I have a foolproof method when it comes to conversation and you," Connor said.

* * *

Tessa had just returned home and hadn't even gotten her car parked yet when she saw Connor coming out of the store. She didn't say anything nor did she try to get his attention. She hadn't really counted on seeing Connor again so soon, and judging by the speed of which he was going, she figured he was thinking something very similar. He threw a bag, Richie's bag, Tessa noted, into the passenger side of his car, went around to his side, started the car up, took a turn and was gone. Now Tessa figured she had her lead—she didn't even have to go inside to know that Richie wasn't there, but if Connor was taking his things somewhere, then he knew. So Tessa decided, she would know too, she stomped on the gas and took off after Connor. 


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: I would like to apologize for the delay in getting this chapter up, but have been taken ill for the last 3 days and have now just finished the third chapter. I hope you enjoy.

Tessa stayed on Connor's trail but didn't get close enough for him to see her, if he did, she might not find Richie. She knew that that was where Connor was going, and she was going to find out what was going on. Where was Richie? Was he allright? Why didn't he come home last night? Those were the questions that the suspense was killing her to know. She was thrown for a curve when Connor turned off from the main road and got on a dirt path and started downhill, Tessa swerved her car in the same direction to follow, but by the time she was on the path, Connor was nowhere to be found. It knocked her for a loop but she wasn't giving up just yet—she followed downhill and came to a fork in the road, she took the left and decided if she got nowhere, she'd double back and head right.

Connor kicked open the front door and marched in with Richie's bag in his hand, he immediately went to the foot of the staircase and called up, "Richie?"

"I'm in the kitchen," Richie called back.

"So why am I not surprised?" Connor asked himself as he headed in that direction.

He found Richie at the table halfway through a sandwich and drinking a glass of milk and at the rate he was going, it looked like he'd swallow the straw.

"I was right, you are a machine," Connor said, "Don't you ever get full?"

"Not too often—so, did you talk to Mac?"

"Oh a bit."

"Wha—was—uh—is he cooling down yet?"

"Oh he's past that stage, he's cold."

"So does he still hate me?" Richie asked.

"He's not angry, Richie—he still needs a bit of time to really come back down off of whatever he's going through—but he'll come around, and he's already made it clear that you're welcome back whenever you're ready."

"I'm not, yet."

"I know—I got a few of your things, it wasn't much but I do think you should be able to get through the week with it."

"Thanks."

"So how are you liking the house?" Connor asked.

"Oh it's—very nice, could use a few things, though."

"Like what?"

"Well, a radio for one—maybe you guys like peace and quiet for that meditation and stuff—but the silence is about enough to drive me up the wall."

"Don't worry, I got you an easy fix for that," Connor put Richie's bag on the table. Richie opened it up and the first thing he pulled out was his walkman. "Thanks."

"Anything else that's to your liking?"

"Not specifically, it's just—I can understand this place being good for getting away from it all—you know it's nice, it's quiet, it's peaceful, there's no neighbors, no police, no dog catchers—but for someone like me, there's not really much to do around here."

"Not yet, but I have a few ideas how to fix that."

"Oh yeah, like what?" Richie asked.

"Well of all the rooms I haven't done anything with, I was thinking of getting one fixed up with some bar games in it."

"Bar games?" Richie repeated.

"Yeah—pool, darts, foosball, roulette—"

"Connor, roulette is not a bar game, it is a casino game."

"Maybe where you come from."

"What kind of roulette is played in a bar?" Richie asked.

"Russian."

"Well I have a question, who's going to take care of the house when you go back to New York?" Richie asked.

"Good question—I hadn't thought about it, oh well, I'll think of something later, now why don't you go unpack?"

"Okay."

Richie took his bag and headed up the stairs to his room. He emptied the bag on his bed and out fell his walkman, three changes of clothes, his wallet, a few of his magazines, a deck of cards, some of the very cheap jewelry he wore including rope bracelets and a quartz crystal necklace—and then he found something that wasn't his. A keychain and he guessed it was Connor's; it had a little holographic picture of a lady on it, clearly not Mac's. Richie tilted it back a bit and the picture moved, so he moved it again to see just where the holographic part came in—and her dress came off. Definitely not something Mac kept around. Richie started laughing and then—he saw something else in his bag—this time it was something that definitely belonged to him.

He reached in and pulled out about five pictures that had been taken a few weeks ago—pictures of the three of them, of he and Mac and Tess. Looking at them now, nobody would ever guess Richie was in the mess he was. Even he was still having trouble realizing it, 24 hours ago his life had been perfect he hadn't a worry in the world. Of course that was a lie, there had been plenty of problems, he just hadn't realized it at the time, or cared. And now—he couldn't even finish the thought, now everything was a mess, and despite what Connor told him, would probably stay that way.

So apparently there was one thing that Richie could always rely on himself for, and it didn't matter where he went or what he did or how hard he tried, he always managed to blow any and every chance he had at something good. Why didn't he ever learn?

* * *

Tessa slowly opened her eyes and the first realization she came to was that her forehead was throbbing. She woke up and saw that she was in the middle of a wreck—now she remembered, when she took the left at the fork in the road, she came upon a very poor road. Even for dirt, whatever had happened to the land it was worse than all the potholes, cracks, splits, speed bumps and manholes on the downtown streets. She had tried to stop the car so she could search on foot since she figured it would be safer, but the road turned into a basic drop-down point and her car didn't stop until it met with a tree, and Tessa realized that if she hadn't been strapped in during the time, she might've gone flying through the windshield.

As she got out of the car, she quickly came to the conclusion that everything to her hurt, her head hurt, her face hurt, her back hurt, her chest hurt, even her teeth hurt. She could already tell that this path had been a dead end so she started walking back up the way she came, and with every step, a sharp pain in her hip kept making itself known. Looking up the road to see just how far she would be going before coming back to the fork, Tessa's heart skipped a beat when she saw something. It was too far away to clearly make out, but Tessa would swear on her life that it was Felicia. And just as easy as she saw the figure, it disappeared. Trying to ignore all the aches and pains in her body right now, Tessa started running, or at least tried to, up the path she'd come and before she knew it, she came back to the fork.

Looking around she saw nobody, nor any sign that anybody had been there. This time however, she knew she wasn't dreaming, she knew for a fact that she saw somebody, someone who looked like Felicia. She was wide awake now so it had to be real, she was in a lot of pain but she wasn't going to attribute what she saw to a head injury for delirium from the pain. Going back to get on the main road she decided to do as a last resort. She looked down the right side of the fork and didn't see too much, but she figured she had to look, she wouldn't be satisfied until she had. Richie was somewhere nearby, that much Tessa knew---and she could also guess that there was a crazy Immortal woman somewhere in the same direction---maybe Tessa couldn't kill her but she could certainly come close if she got the chance.

* * *

Richie hadn't made any noise in about an hour, and Connor didn't like it. He went up to see just what Richie was doing that he was so quiet, and he pushed the door open and found Richie curled on his side, asleep, with all of his current belongings placed right beside him---apparently he'd fallen asleep before he had a chance to unpack and put everything away. The sight would look endearing but there was something amiss, Connor couldn't put his finger on it right away, so he crept up closer to the bed to get a better look. He got his answer—Richie's face was scrunched up into an expression absolutely unreadable, except for the tears and rolled down from his eyes and onto the pillow.

"What have you gone and put yourself through this time?" he asked the boy, although he was in too deep a sleep to hear it. Connor shook his head, Richie had a very hard time accepting things when he couldn't see the proof for himself, and that proof was what he was too scared to step forward to.

Connor saw that Richie had something in his hand, and he gently took it away so he could see it for himself. It was a photograph no more than a couple of weeks old with he, Duncan and Tessa in it together. So this was what got him upset now---Connor put it and the other pictures on the bedside table, and he kissed Richie on the forehead and made a silent promise that he would take care of everything, and he would. He would keep Richie with him until it was the right time to send him back with Duncan, and he knew that time would come. Connor smoothed back the bangs on Richie's forehead, and in doing so, came to a realization of something—he tried again, and felt that Richie had a fever, not a large one but one nonetheless.

"No wonder you're feeling horrible," he said, "Not to worry, that can be taken care of, I'll be right back."

* * *

Dead on her feet---that's how Tessa could describe how she felt right now, dead on her feet. She felt like she'd been walking for miles and truth be known she probably had been. In all the ground she'd covered coming down this road, she had seen nothing for the longest time, no people, no houses, no sign of life anywhere. Just when she was about to give up, she noticed something a little ways down the road—so she forced herself to press on, and when she got down far enough to see it, she couldn't believe what she was looking at—Connor's car.

So she had come to the right place, at least it seemed so, if Connor's car was here, then he couldn't be too far away, could he? The car didn't look as if Connor had abandoned it in a hurry or a panic, meaning he _had_ to be nearby. Tessa looked around and didn't see anywhere he might've gone to, but then, she looked over the edge of the top of the hill she was on, and saw down below a large house, actually it looked like with a little work it could've been a church. Tessa didn't see any other place around for a while, so she decided she would check out the house, if they weren't there—she would have to cross that bridge when she came to it.

As she headed down, Tessa still remained alert to the fact that Felicia was out there somewhere---she had to be, there could be no other explanation for what she saw. Just the thought of meeting up with that woman, face to face again, it sent chills up her spine, she had enough of that the last time she saw Felicia, when she was threatening to burn her face with her blowtorch. How she wished that she could have that opportunity right now—however being out in the open, if she did meet with Felicia again, she could knock her down and run for it. But run where? She didn't know these parts, she didn't even have any idea where she was going, and she had been going on for so long without anything to eat or drink, or even a chance to rest, that she seriously doubted that if she had to, she would be able to get away.

She took a few more steps and her body decided then to quit on her, she fell on her knees and her body met with the hard dirt ground. She needed to rest before she truly collapsed, but she also needed to find Richie and get to the bottom of it---however her exhausted body won the battle and she lay where she was for a few minutes, trying to rest. Now it came back to her just how much every part of her body was hurting---by the time she would be able to find a mirror to see how much damage was done, she doubted she would even be able to recognize herself. She imagined herself covered in bruises and scrapes and cuts, swollen and scabbed, black and blue and red. As if she didn't have enough to remind her of what happened, her head was pounding again and felt like it was going to burst.

Tessa forced herself to get up and she started down the path again, this time she was trying to block out from her mind all the pain and the agony that she was experiencing with every step she took. Even so, she couldn't ignore the fact that with every step she took, it became harder to breathe, so she stopped and leaned against a large tree to catch her breath. However as she stopped to do so, somebody lunged out from behind and grabbed her. She tried to scream but the person clamped one good strong hand over her mouth so that she couldn't make any noise.

* * *

Duncan was and had been for the last hour, trying to figure out something, anything that might tell him where Connor was, and more importantly where Richie was. Connor said it was a place Duncan didn't know, so that immediately crossed out all motels and hotels on the map, because Connor knew that would be the first place Duncan would look. Next he considered holy ground, but then he realized that it was pretty much an impossibility to keep somebody like Richie on holy ground for long, especially overnight and this late in the morning.

In addition to that mystery, he was also trying to figure out what had come of Tessa---Connor hadn't said if she was also with them, and Duncan liked to think that he knew Connor well enough that he would say if she were. So if she weren't with them, where could she be? Duncan didn't get a chance to complete that thought because the phone rang.

"Hello, Tessa?"

"No," there was a low, raspy voice on the other end of the line, "But she is a pretty one, isn't she? And how about that boy of yours, Richie? He's a _real_ pretty one, wouldn't you say?"

Felicia.

"Why are you doing this? You know where I am, if you want to fight, why don't you just come?"

"Too easy---I want to make sure you suffer plenty hard first, and believe me, that's exactly what's going to happen in just a few minutes."

Before Duncan had a chance to say anything, she gave him an address of where to find her, and she suggested he hurry, because when the clock struck the hour, and that wasn't too far off, two people who he loved dearly, would be dead.

* * *

Tessa refused the third glass of water offered to her, "I don't want another drink, Connor, I want to know where Richie is, I swear if you've done anything to hurt him, I'll—"

"Take it easy, Richie's okay, he's upstairs asleep---now, do you mind if I ask how you got here?"

"I followed you---I saw you leaving the store and you had Richie's bag, and I'd been looking all night for him, so I followed you to see where you'd taken him. And now that I'm here, I'm going to get him and----"

"And what? Tessa, you can't get out of here and back home, that much I know just by looking at you. What happened?"

"What happened is I tried keeping up with you and almost got killed because of it---my car has collided with a tree down the other side of the fork in the road – meanwhile I came this way because I saw somebody."

"Who?"

"This woman we know, her name is Felicia Martins."

"Do you really think she'd come here? Of all the places she could go, she'd come here, why?" Connor asked, "For what reason?"

"I'm sure I don't know, but I'm positive of what I saw."

"Why would she come out here?" Connor asked.

"I don't know, but I saw her, Connor, I know it---and now, I want to see Richie." Tessa tried standing up, but her ankle gave out on her and she sat back down. "Where is he, Connor?"

"Tess!"

Tessa and Connor turned and saw standing in the doorway, a very tired and very flushed Richie.

"Richie, come here, let me take a good look at you," Tessa said.

Richie cautiously walked over to Tessa and as soon as he was close enough for her to touch, he knelt down a bit and put his arms around her and buried his face in her shoulder, and that's when the apologies started spilling out.

"Tess, I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry about what I said, I didn't mean—"

"Shhhhhh, it's allright, Richie, I know---how are you feeling?"

But Richie didn't seem to hear her. "I'm sorry, Tess, I wasn't trying to hurt you when I said that I–"

"Richie, take it easy—I may not be anything great compared to Duncan, but it takes more than a few words to hurt me, especially coming from you."

"You see, Richie? I told you they weren't unreasonable," Connor said.

"Tessa, what happened?" Richie asked, taking in the scrapes and cuts on her face.

"I had a little accident—but I'll be allright. How are you?"

Richie's eyes shut almost completely. "Tired."

"Well Tessa's going to be here for a while, so why don't you go back to bed?" Connor suggested.

"Okay," Richie got up and turned around and started heading for the doorway, "Tess."

"Yes, Richie?"

Richie turned back around to face her, "I'm glad you're not mad at me, though I couldn't blame you if you were."

Tessa waited until Richie was upstairs to ask Connor, "What's the matter with him?"

"He has a slight fever, but don't worry, I gave him something for it."

"Has he been here all night?" Tessa asked.

"Yes and he's been making himself sick because he's been worried that you and Duncan didn't want him to come back home."

"Oh my God—no wonder he's upset."

"Yeah, and Duncan, while he's not as bad as Richie thought, I still wouldn't send Richie back to him right away."

"I know, when he came back last night, he hardly said a word to me, and he wouldn't tell me if Richie was allright, or where he was—he didn't even seem worried when Richie never came home."

"And you?"

"I couldn't sleep worrying about him, so I went looking, and to be honest, I'm not too thrilled about going back either."

"No problem, I can go back, pack another bag, knock Duncan out again and we'll be set," Connor said.

"Don't make me laugh, Connor, it hurts too much."

"Well look, you look like you're about ready to drop—so how about I show you the guest room and you can rest?"

"What floor is it on?" Tessa asked.

"Don't worry, I've got a solution for that."

Connor walked over to her, lifted her on her one good foot, picked her up, and carried her up the stairs.

"Very funny, Connor."

"You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think you and Richie could both use a vacation from Duncan."

"I hate to say it but I agree. He's been getting on both our nerves lately."

Connor took Tessa into the guestroom he'd fixed up for she and Duncan and put her on the bed so she could rest up.

"Well I hear a little time apart is good for a couple," he said, "And you've been with him for 12 years now? I'd say that's time enough for a break. I've known Duncan for well over 300 years and let me tell you, if I didn't take a break from him, I would've killed him long ago."

"Connor, you're not lying to me about Richie, are you? He is going to be allright, isn't he?"

"Don't worry, Tessa, he'll be fine—all he needs is some time to relax, a little peace and quiet, and if he actually can manage to keep the medicine in him, he'll be good as new in no time."

"I sure hope so," Tessa said, "I'd hate to think that we'd have to rush him to the hospital for something—he's usually very---very—"

"Energetic?" Connor tried.

"That would be the understatement of the year," Tessa replied, "You show me a man who's had 12 cups of coffee in one day, Richie can still outdo him—but now, Connor," her voice dropped to just above a whisper, "He looks terrible."

"Nobody looks great when they're sick, or do I have to remind you of that?" Connor asked, "Don't worry about a thing, everything is going to be allright, I'll see to it myself, okay?"

Tessa finally gave in, "Okay."

"Good, now go to sleep, I'm going to make sure Richie actually went back to bed."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: Once again, I would like to apologize for the delay in getting the latest chapter finished, but in the past week and a half I've found the latest bout of flu going around to be a pain in just about everything imaginable. So for your viewing pleasure here is the 4th chapter and hopefully the 5th will accompany it soon.

"Richie, why do you think it's weird to trust me?"

"What?"

Richie's fever had gone up and he now seemed to be entering the delirious stage. Connor had found Richie covered up and curled in a ball, and much to Richie's protests he took away the comforter, opened the window, and now laid Richie flat on his back and was preparing a cold wet cloth for his forehead.

"You act like you're uncomfortable being here, having to trust in me."

"Well it's not something I'm used to," Richie replied.

"Well do you know that if Duncan hadn't taken you in, you would've gone to New York with me anyway?" Connor asked him.

"Really?"

"Yes, I told Duncan that you needed watching, and he agreed, and he said that he'd take care of you—if he hadn't been able to, however, I would've taken you in at my home in New York. Of course I don't know how well we would've gotten along, but that's not to say we couldn't have."

"Yeah."

"So I think that's good enough to consider me part of the family, don't you think?"

"Yes."

"So there's no reason to be uncomfortable during your stay here, if it can be avoided, understand?"

Richie nodded.

"Good, now just rest and I'll be back in a little while, okay?"

Richie nodded and closed his eyes. He tried to act like he was allright, but Connor knew he was scared because he was sick.

"Everything will be allright, I promise," he told the boy before he left.

* * *

"How is he?" Tessa asked.

Connor shook his head, "Fever's gone up."

"The medicine didn't work, then."

"No it didn't," Connor replied, "Now I'm trying to break it the natural way, I've got him in there cooling off."

"And if that doesn't work?" Tessa asked.

"If it gets much higher, he'll need a cold bath."

"Good luck trying to get him to go along with that," Tessa said.

"If it still doesn't go down after that, _then_ we'll have to resort to sweating it out."

"And if that doesn't work?" Tessa asked.

"I'm in a family of pessimists here, aren't I?" Connor asked, "Well—in short, if that doesn't work, then the hospital."

"What will they do?" Tessa asked.

"I don't know," Connor replied, "The only person who I've had to worry in the more recent years of getting to the hospital incase of illness was Rachel, and she never got too high a fever that I couldn't break at home."

"I'm sure it won't come to that," Tessa said, "He's going to be allright—isn't he?"

"Of course he will, he hasn't made it this far for nothing," Connor said, "Besides, people get fevers for anything, sunburn, windburn, blisters, appendicitis—" and Connor was sorry he opened his mouth.

"If he had that, we'd know," Tessa replied, thankfully.

"Yeah—after everything he ate today, there is no way he could have that."

"So how long have you been in town?" Tessa asked.

"A few weeks, I've been fixing up the house, how do you like it?"

"It's missing a few things."

Critic. "Yeah, I'm still finishing up here."

"And Duncan doesn't know you're here?"

"No, because if I had told him, I would have spent the last three weeks yakking my head off with him, instead of painting, plastering, plumbing, getting the electricity turned on, getting the floors carpeted, getting the roof hot tarred, and getting the grass low enough to walk through, not climb over, without setting it on fire. Whoever owned this place before really let it go."

"Why was it closed?" Tessa asked.

"Needed too many repairs, and nobody had the money, or the want to fix it up."

"Well," Tessa gave her room another look-over, "You seem to have made nice work of it."

"Yeah, and short work too, thankfully, it looks like Richie will be staying with me for a while."

"That it does," Tessa said, "I just can't figure out what's wrong with Duncan, why is he mad at Richie?"

"He's not mad, he's upset." Connor could've sworn he said that already, "Why though, I can't figure out. Although, maybe I would've had better luck if I'd stayed there and tried picking at his brain, instead of knocking him in the jaw."

"I really don't get it, Connor," Tessa said, "Is it such a mistake what Richie did? So horrible, so—"

"I think the word you're looking for is 'stupid'," Connor interjected, "And no it's not, I tried explaining to Richie that such an event has been happening with Immortals for thousands of years."

"So why does it bother Duncan so much?"

"I don't know, if anything you'd think he wouldn't want the head of a crazy woman like what Richie described."

"That's something else I can't understand," Tessa said, "Why doesn't Richie want to come home? What is he so afraid of?"

"Rejection, he's had it enough his whole life that he can't stand if it comes from you two, and he's afraid it will. You know, I never thought I'd see the day, but I really think Richie is more afraid of facing you and Duncan and having you hate him, than he would be afraid of running into that Felicia woman again."

"She certainly scared the hell out of me," Tessa said, "How could she be so crazy?"

"Some of the oldest people alive are," Connor replied, "Time does not wear well with them. I know, I've seen enough of it in my time to last me to my dying day."

"What could have happened then, to make her like that?" Tessa asked.

"Who knows? Who cares is a better question. She is gone, she is out of your lives, she is history."

"Not until she dies, until then she's just gone," Tessa replied.

"My point is, she has left, she is not coming back, she is nothing to worry about anymore," Connor said.

They heard a car drive up, the door slam, and Connor felt the person approaching. "But that is."

With that, he grabbed his sword and was rushing for the stairs, Tessa followed though not too close with her bad foot, and she stood on the stairs when Connor opened the door.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded to know.

"Richie, where is he?" Duncan asked as he entered cautiously.

"That's none of your concern for the time being," Connor said, "Now what the hell are you doing here? I know you couldn't have followed both of us and nobody knew."

"Tessa!" Duncan saw the cuts and bruises that marked the love of his life and he dashed to the stairs to get a better look. "Tessa, what happened?"

"I had a little accident," she bluntly replied, "Now what are you doing here?"

Duncan looked back at Connor, then back at Tessa. "Just what have I done that I've become public enemy #1 around here?"

"I'll give you a hint," Connor said as he held the door open, "He's 18, has red hair, blue eyes, and has spent a better part of last night putting my flood insurance to good use, who now I might add has made himself so sick that he's running a 101 degree fever."

"He WHAT?" Duncan jumped at Connor and grabbed him by his jacket, "Where is he, Connor?"

"Will you shut up? I just got him to sleep and now you're going to wake him up, and you still haven't answered my question of just why the hell you're here."

"I—" Duncan turned back and started up the stairs to Tessa again, "Felicia called, she told me if I didn't meet her _here_ on the hour, you and Richie would both be dead."

"What?" Tessa couldn't believe her ears, but it did make sense why she saw Felicia around earlier.

"Tessa, Richie, where is he?" Duncan asked.

As if the answer, Richie picked that exact time to start screaming.

"There's your answer right there," Connor said, and the three of them rushed up the stairs to his room. Connor got in first and was already at the bedside, Tessa pulled Duncan back despite his bodily protests, so Richie wouldn't see him.

"Come on, Richie, wake up, what is it?"

"Connor! Oh God, Connor—Mac—he—he—"

"Shhhhhh, it's allright, it's over," Connor took the now dry cloth and soaked it in the pitcher on the nightstand and wrung it out, then placed it back on Richie's forehead, "It was only a nightmare." Richie closed his eyes again and Connor's eyes now looked over to Duncan even though he was still speaking to the boy. "We wouldn't let anyone or anything hurt you, you know that, Richie, don't you?"

"Yes," he replied in a low, tired voice.

"Good, now try and go back to sleep, we'll be just across the hall if you need us, okay?"

"Yes, Connor."

Richie tried to pull the covers back up, but Connor wouldn't allow it, only the first sheet and nothing else.

"But I'm cold," Richie tiredly replied.

"I know, Richie, but you have a fever and we have to bring it down before we can let you warm up again."

"Connor—what's wrong with me?"

"Nothing, Richie, nothing at all, these things happen all the time." That was a difference in Connor and Duncan, Duncan was one of the worst liars who ever existed, whereas Connor spoke with a voice that as soon as he spoke he could be believed, most of the time anyway. "Everything's going to be allright, just try to rest."

"Okay."

Connor made his way over to the door and under his breath demanded that Duncan and Tessa, who had watched his little performance, go to his room so they could talk in a more private setting.

* * *

"So Felicia's still around, so what?" Connor asked, "I don't know why she got you out here, but I'm already here and as long as I am, nothing's going to happen to either of these two."

"You can't guarantee that, Connor," Duncan said.

"Maybe not, but you're not really in much position to be playing the white knight riding to the rescue," Connor reminded him, "Both people whom you feel the need to protect, consider you the last person they want to see right now. Besides, I doubt very much if you went up against that woman, right now, that you'd even be able to win."

"How can you say that?"

"Because you're the biggest wreck right now that you've ever been in your whole life," Connor told him, "And you know it. That's it, Duncan, that is it, she can't get to you directly through Tessa and Richie, so she's making you think she can, so you come here, ready to hit the ceiling, to just drive you crazy, so that you are absolutely out of your mind by the time she finally _does_ decide to show her face."

Duncan knew Connor was right, but he didn't want to think about it, Immortal or not, this whole mess was giving him a headache. "What about Richie? How did he get sick? What's wrong with him?"

"From what I can gather, right now it's just a fever, I'm trying to stop it from becoming anything else." Duncan started for the door. "Don't even think about going in there," Connor told him, "You'll scare him."

That stopped Duncan in his tracks. "What?" He still couldn't believe anything that he'd heard over the last couple of hours.

"You heard me," Connor said, "I don't know what you plan on doing, but I'd actually like to sleep tonight, and that's not going to happen if you terrify that kid and show yourself to him before he's ready to see you."

"I still don't understand what I did that was so horrible," Duncan said.

"Allright, then answer this," Connor said, "Last night after the fight, why didn't you take Richie home with you?" When Duncan had no answer, he pursued, "Why didn't you say anything to him? Why didn't you tell him 'I don't like this, but I'm not angry'? Why didn't you tell him 'I don't want you getting in the middle of another fight to stop it'? Dammit Duncan, why didn't you say something? Tell him something so that he could've known it was allright to go home? Don't you understand, Duncan? That boy looks up to you, maybe he doesn't act like it, maybe you don't even know that he listens when you talk, but he does. What you think of him, and how you tell it to him, is very important, even if he doesn't admit it because he can't fully accept that himself. When you don't say anything, that leaves the door open for him to assume the worst, and he has, that being that you have rejected having him in your home. He fears your rejection worse than he fears anything else in this life, but he'll never tell you that because he doesn't know what's wrong with him either."

"Then how do you know?" Duncan asked.

"Because I can tell, dammit, I haven't lived as long as I have for nothing. I've learned, I know how to watch people, I can tell when something bothers them and I can tell them what bothers them even if they don't know it themselves. I can tell when he talks about how much he's screwed up, he says that because he sees it as he had something good and it's gone now. Doesn't that tell you anything, Duncan?"

"Then why won't you let me see him so I can set it straight?" Duncan demanded to know.

"Because you won't do it right," Connor said, "Not in the current mood you're in. Both you and Richie have to calm down before I'm letting you anywhere near him."

"Connor you can't do this."

"The hell I can't, you haven't had to put up with the damage you've done that boy, I have, and I'll be damned if I let you cause any more when he's in the state he is. I don't know just _what_ all he's had to go through in his life, but judging from the way he's behaved over the last 12 hours, my guess is he's damn close to the edge, and seeing you again anytime soon might just send him over it."

For the first time in several hundred years, Duncan was truly speechless because he knew he'd lost the battle, for now anyway. Now he felt like he'd been struck over the head, the room was spinning.

"I need to lie down," Duncan said.

"Fine," Connor opened the door and kicked Duncan in the rear sending him out, and he pointed over to the guestroom, "That's where you'll be staying for the time being, and do make sure you don't wake up the kid, he needs all the rest he can get."

When Connor had turned and gone back to his room, Duncan decided one last time to try and get in to see Richie, he got as far as reaching the door handle when Connor jerked him back and all but threw him into the room across the hall. "I warned you," Connor told him.

Duncan tried to remember the words to an old Gaelic curse as he shut the door and laid on the bed. Right now he felt like he was ready to drop dead and he probably would, one way or the other, if something wasn't done soon. First Richie never came home, then Tessa went out hunting for him, then Felicia and the threatening phone call, and for what? Here they were, safe and sound, and Connor, he knew Connor would never allow anyone to harm them if he could help it. None of it made any sense.

* * *

"Connor, do you have a thermometer here?" Tessa asked.

"No, why?"

Tessa felt Richie's forehead for the third time in the last minute and shook her head, "He's getting worse."

"What?" Connor checked for himself, and she was right, he was getting hotter.

"What did you say his temperature was last?" Tessa asked.

Connor regretted the answer before he could even say it, "101 degrees."

"What would you estimate it is now?"

"Near 103."

"How much longer can we afford to wait before he has to get to a hospital?" Tessa asked.

"That's what I'm not sure about," Connor admitted, "Maybe it would be wise to forgo the home remedies and get him there now."

"You think so?"

"There's a chance that we could bring it down naturally, but in the length of time it would take to do it, as that time passes, he could get worse, and the treatments might not have any effect on him. I don't think we have much choice, we have to get him to the hospital immediately, if the fever can be brought down near 100, then we might be able to bring him home and treat him from there."

"I'm right behind you."

Tessa followed him out of the room and down the stairs and they got halfway out the door when they made a horrible discovery.

"Oh no!" Tessa took in the sight of eight slashed tires on two cars and she was ready to scream, "What happened?"

"Maybe Duncan was onto something about that woman," Connor said.

"If she had been here, wouldn't you have known?" Tessa asked.

"I'd like to think so, but I can't think of anyone else who would do this, let alone anyone else who might be out here," Connor replied.

"Then we have to call for an ambulance," Tessa said.

"We can't," Connor reluctantly replied, "In all the work I've done to the house I never got the phones hooked up."

"What do we do then?" Tessa asked.

Connor tried to think for a minute, "Tessa, are you sure that you wouldn't be able to get your car to the hospital?"

"Are you kidding me?" Tessa asked, "It crashed into a tree."

"It might still work, Tessa it's our only chance right now, it's either that, or we make a 10 mile hike to the hospital."

Tessa realized they had no choice really, they had to find out. "Come on, I'll show you where it is. Wait, do you think Richie will be safe?"

"I think he'll be allright long enough for us to find out if we can get out of here," Connor said.

"But what about Duncan?" Tessa asked.

"I have an idea that even if he did go to see Richie right now, he wouldn't wake up. He didn't even move when we were both in there."

"Yeah but—"

"Come on, Tessa, the sooner we can find out if we can get out of here, and fast, the sooner we can help Richie."

"I suppose so—but I have a bad feeling about this."

* * *

Duncan awoke when he heard what sounded like Tessa screaming, but the noise had died as quickly as it surfaced. For a moment he thought he was hearing things, but then he heard the front door close, and he realized that he couldn't feel Connor's presence anymore. He jumped out of bed and on instinct he darted over to Richie's room and saw he was still asleep, but not peacefully. His face was flushed and he was perspiring a horrible lot, and he kept turning from one side to another in a futile attempt to find a cooler spot to lie on.

Right now he didn't give a damn about Connor's warning, he slowly approached the boy and rested his hand on Richie's forehead and he got a good idea of just how sick he truly was.

"Richie, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to get like this," he said, though Richie showed no signs of hearing him, in spite or because of that, Duncan continued, "I promise once this is over, you're going to come back with us. And no matter what," it was killing him to continue, the last few hours had been pure hell for him, he could only imagine how they had been on Richie, especially after the hellish description Connor gave him, "It doesn't matter what happens after this, _this_ is not going to happen again, I won't let it get this bad between us."

Richie turned again and quietly moaned and whimpered in response to his pain. Duncan knew that this couldn't go on for much longer, he needed help and he needed it soon. That, added with the reminder that Connor was currently nowhere to be found in the house, and odds were Tessa was gone as well, was enough to send Duncan into a blind panic. On one hand, he couldn't go off as well and leave Richie alone to suffer, but then again, he had to find out just what had become of the two. He had to make sure that they didn't run into Felicia if she was out there waiting.

Taking in the fact that Richie was safer hidden away on the second floor than Tessa and Connor were out there in the open, didn't help Duncan to relax any, but it convinced him to finally move. He jumped down the stairs and headed out the door headed back up the way he'd come, reached the fork in the road and quickly caught up with Connor and Tessa.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Connor asked.

"Where are you going?" Duncan asked.

"We have to get Richie to the hospital, and both your car and Connor's have had the tires slashed, so we're going to see if mine can run long enough to get us to the hospital."

"What? You mean that Felicia—"

"Well she is the prime suspect at the moment," Connor said, "Although how that's possible I can't figure out because I would've known if she were around."

"So what else could it be?" Duncan asked.

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Tessa said.

"What about Richie?" Duncan asked.

"He was asleep the last time we checked on him," Connor replied.

"He's there alone, if Felicia gets to him, he can't defend himself."

"Well he wasn't alone until you decided to play follow the leader," Connor said, "Why don't you go back and make sure nothing happens?"

"Oh, _now_ you're trusting me with him?" Duncan asked.

"Yes, because as sick as he is right now, it could be the 4th of July, there could be bottle rockets and cherry bombs and Roman candles going off and it wouldn't wake him up."

"There it is!" Tessa announced.

Looking ahead they saw her car and saw just how close it had come to being totaled. Upon a closer look they saw that the majority of the damage was a dent in the front and a smashed windshield. After getting a distance between it and the tree, they quickly came to the realization that it would run, how long was the current question, but any amount of ground they could cover quicker than walking, they would gladly take. Taking a gamble on the time they would have for it to actually run, they decided to get it up to the fork, and they would get Richie out that far and drive to the hospital. At least, that's what _they_ had in mind. But somebody else had a different plan altogether for them.


	5. Chapter 5

Richie was somewhere halfway between a state of sleep and of awakening, somewhere between pain and numbness. He felt like he'd been half knocked out of his own body, and then he could swear he heard somebody calling his name. It sounded like Mac, and he opened his eyes and saw he was alone, so he closed them again. He heard somebody coming up the stairs, and they didn't sound like they were in any rush, so he figured everything was allright. Then when he heard the footsteps stop right at his door, he opened his eyes and looked over and if he could've screamed, he would've, but fear had trapped his voice in his throat so that he could barely make any sound at all, but somehow he managed to get that one word out. "Felicia!"

Indeed it was, standing at the door, sword drawn and an unreadable look on her face except for the fury, was Felicia Martins, back and ready for the kill. "Well kid, it all ends here."

A couple of quick striding steps and she was at the side of the bed, ready to strike, and Richie reacted the only way he could think to. He swung back and kicked her in the stomach and it was hard enough to knock her down. When she was down and couldn't attack, he took that opportunity to run, unfortunately he didn't know where to go, so he darted across to Connor's room. He didn't stop running until he collided with the dresser and sent two of the drawers practically flying out, and when one dropped out, he saw something that would be about his only chance of survival, it was a gun.

Felicia quickly caught up with him and when she stood in the doorway, Richie pointed the gun at her and stood up. She laughed. "Go ahead and try, kid, but we both know you can't do it. You couldn't let MacLeod kill me and you sure as hell don't have the guts to put a bullet through me."

Richie closed his eyes and tried to breathe and without even remembering doing anything, he heard the noise of the gunfire. When he opened his eyes, she lay sprawled on the floor, but it would only stop her for so long and Richie knew it. His brain was trying to determine several things at once, he was trying to think of what had become of Tessa and Connor, but he didn't have time for that now. Before she had a chance to get back to her feet, Richie, still with the gun in his hand and ready to go another round, headed over to her and picked up her sword. He didn't even know _what_ he was doing but he knew it had to be done.

"Damn you," the words were low enough they could barely be heard, then as he got another breath in him, the sound grew as he said it again, "Damn you!" He had the blade at her throat, "I loved you! I thought—"

Even with death a fraction of an inch away, Felicia laughed, "Don't flatter yourself kid, _nobody_ could love you, and nobody ever will. Face it, you stopped the fight for nothing, you turned MacLeod against you, and now he doesn't want you anymore. Nobody's going to want you. Even with that fact staring you in the eye for the rest of your life, you still can't kill me. You don't have it in you to do it."

Richie screamed like a wounded beast as he drew back the sword, and it was the last sound Felicia ever heard.

* * *

As they headed up to the house, Connor stopped dead in his tracks, and before either Duncan or Tessa could ask what was the matter, they knew what the answer was. Every window to the house shattered as what looked like blue sparks of electric lightning escaped from the inside, and absorbed Connor in the middle of it. The power was great enough that it lifted him several feet off the ground and he let out a scream that was the most inhuman noise they had ever heard in their lives. After what seemed like an eternity, all power had been absorbed and Connor dropped the ground, near dead from the exhausting and excruciating experience.

"Connor!"

Connor groaned in annoyance and tried pushing Duncan away from him when he tried to help. "Never mind me, go find the boy!"

Duncan headed on towards the house, but Tessa was still in shock by what she had seen, and currently she couldn't convince herself to move.

"Connor what's happened? What was that?" Tessa asked.

"Well unless I'm wrong, and I don't think I am," Connor replied, "Felicia is dead."

"But Richie?"

"Who do you think killed her?" Connor asked.

"Are you going to be allright?" Tessa asked.

"I'm fine," Connor rolled over onto his stomach so he could push himself up to his feet. "Now let's go find that boy, he needs a hospital probably more than ever, and I'd guess enough drugs to knock out an elephant." Connor laughed though there was no humor in the whole matter, "After an experience like that, he's probably about to lose his poor mind."

Duncan got in through the front door and immediately saw that the house was more a mess inside than out. The inside was where all the glass had collected once the windows busted.

"Richie!" he called out, but heard nothing in response. As a pre-Immortal, Richie's buzz was low enough naturally, but now Duncan was finding it near impossible to feel him at all. From the floor above, he heard a crash followed by what sounded like a moan. Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the top and immediately saw he'd come to the right place. Felicia's headless body lay sprawled in the doorway to Connor's bedroom, Duncan tried not to focus on it as he stepped over it to find out what had happened to Richie. He got his answer. Somehow or another, Connor's dresser had toppled over and had fallen on him, and he had already been in enough pain from being sick.

Using everything he had in him not to panic, Duncan got the dresser up off of him but once the weight was lifted, Richie made no attempt to get up or even to move. Duncan slipped one arm under Richie's ribs to try and help him up, but when he did, the boy screamed and Duncan worried that he'd broken some bones.

Quickly bringing up the rear was Connor, and he barely acknowledged the corpse at the doorway, he jumped over it and got to Duncan and Richie.

"What's the matter with him?" Connor asked.

"I don't know, he—I found him under the dresser."

"Oh boy." Connor carefully turned Richie onto his back and tried to get the boy to look at him. "Wake up, Richie, don't you recognize me?"

The bleary eye teenager painfully looked at the man speaking to him, his eyes closed halfway and he asked, "Uncle Connor?"

Connor couldn't let Duncan know; it was one thing for him to call Richie his nephew, but by the time this kid addressed him as his uncle, he needed serious help.

Instead he replied, "Yeah, it's me, Richie. How are you feeling?"

"Terrible."

"Understandable, well," Connor said as he pulled Richie to his feet, "We're going to take care of that, just come with me and we'll get you to the hospital."

"Hospital?" that got Richie's attention, and he was without a doubt worried.

"It'll be allright, trust me," Connor said, "I told you I wouldn't let anyone hurt you and I'm going to make sure that so long as I'm around that promise is kept."

"Felicia," Richie tried to explain what had happened.

"I know, don't feel bad about it, Richie, you did what you had to."

Connor got Richie about halfway to the door before he saw the body and panicked. Connor grabbed Richie and held the boy close to him for a minute as he considered his options. Then he got an idea, he slipped one arm behind Richie's back, the other under his thigh, picked him up and carried him out of the room and down the stairs, and with Duncan bringing up the rear.

"What's happened?" Tessa demanded to know when Connor came out carrying Richie and laid him out in the back of her car.

"He's quite shaken up, but he'll survive, can you drive to get him to the hospital?"

"Yes, of course," Tessa replied, "Aren't you coming?"

"Not yet, you and Duncan go on ahead and get the boy there, I have to take care of a few things here and I'll catch up."

Duncan was right behind him and started to protest Connor's decision, but he quickly got cut off.

"Now you listen to me," Connor told him, "That boy needs help and he needs it fast, go on ahead and make sure he gets it, I'll be along soon enough as soon as I get rid of the body."

Duncan hated to admit it but he was right, there was no logical way all four of them could go together. "Allright."

"Good."

Duncan and Tessa got into a short argument of who was in the better condition to actually drive to the hospital without getting them in a wreck. While they reached a quick decision, Connor turned around and took one last look at Richie, who now was barely moving in his condition. Chances were he'd sleep all the way back to town and the hospital, hopefully. He took the boy's hand in his for a second and felt Richie's weak grip, all the same it was a grip, and he took that as a good sign. Acting on a split second decision, he kissed Richie on the forehead and that woke him momentarily.

"Connor—"

"Shhhhhh, everything's going to be allright Richie, they're going to take you to the hospital now."

"Are you coming too?"

"Don't worry, Richie, I'll be there before the morphine sets in."

Richie closed his eyes and seemed to relax again, at least as well as he could. Connor stepped back and watched them drive away. Whatever was wrong with Richie, Connor figured he'd either still have it or be in the process of losing it by the time he caught up with them. Right now he had a body, a head, and a sword to collect and bury, after going through twenty million pieces of smashed glass and much else.

* * *

Tessa tried to keep herself together, but as she filled out the forms she realized her handwriting could match a doctor's, completely illegible. She showed the forms to Duncan, "They're not going to throw him out if they can't read this, are they?"

"No," Duncan replied, "I really don't think they give a damn about what you write down, it's just something to keep the immediate family busy."

"And indeed it is," Tessa said, "I started on these when they wheeled him off to surgery, that was over an hour ago…whose idea was it to make them as long as the telephone directory?"

Tessa was only stammering to keep from admitting how worried she really was, and Duncan knew it. "Richie's going to be allright, Tessa, he's a tough kid."

"I know," Tessa replied, "The surgery's the easy part, it always is, it must be, that's what they always tell people. Surgery's easy, it's the recovery that's the challenge—" her hand shook so bad she couldn't even write anymore, "If this is easy I don't know that I'll be able to handle the recovery."

"It'll be allright, people always consider the worst in situations like these, then when the time comes, it's never as bad as they think."

"Don't try to cheer me up," Tessa said, "And don't try to warm up to me, I'm still mad at you."

"What?"

"You heard me, maybe _this_ was inevitable, but if you hadn't brushed Richie off last night, we wouldn't be going through this right now, he would've been at home, safe with us, not having some crazy woman coming to kill him, and him thinking that we hate him."

"Tessa, don't get excited again."

"I'm not excited again, I never stopped…you know how they say that every husband has a thousand opportunities to kill his wife, and what husband would never even think of it, even just once?"

"So?"

"Well I'm starting to think the same could be said of any woman with a husband, or the closest thing."

"Tessa."

"Maybe I can't kill you for good, but I can sure think of a few ways to painfully slow you down," Tessa resumed filling in the forms.

A momentary panic swept over Duncan as he felt another Immortal approaching, relief came quickly when he saw it was only Connor.

"Well how's it going?" Connor asked.

"Oh not so bad," Tessa said with dry humor, "I'm contemplating homicide of the person sitting next to me."

"Sounds like fun," Connor replied, "So how's Richie?"

"We don't know," Duncan answered.

"They haven't found anything wrong with him yet?" Connor asked.

"Yes they found something wrong, he's in surgery right now, he has an appendicitis," Tessa said.

"A what?" Connor couldn't believe what he heard, "As much as he ate today that couldn't be possible."

"Apparently it is," Tessa replied, "Though I suppose we should've expected that. Richie is at the point in his life where his current occupation is a garbage disposal, maybe a normal person couldn't eat with appendicitis but Richie is _not_ a normal person."

"Thankfully," Connor said as he sat down beside them, "So what're you doing?"

"Applying to college, what do you think I'm doing?" Tessa asked, "These are the forms."

Connor flipped through the pages of the forms, "It's less paperwork declaring your income tax. That stuff's just to keep the immediate family set down and shut up until they get through in surgery. Incidentally how long has he been in it?"

"About an hour, is that a bad sign?"

"I've been a lot of things in my life, but a surgeon isn't one of them. Besides, for all you know, a better part of that time's been spent putting him on an aesthesia that will actually conk him out."

"So is everything taken care of at your home?" Duncan asked.

"The immediate work, yes, there's still the matter of replacing every window that was blown to bits, and throwing out the shards of the previous ones. With all that work, I figure I should be in town at least another three weeks."

"You want some help?" Duncan offered.

"No thanks, with your help I'll be here until Thanksgiving."

"So when the doctors say Richie can have visitors, who's going to see him first?" Tessa asked, "I really don't know that it would be good for all of us to go in at once."

"She's right," Connor said.

"Connor, maybe you should, I think he's still a bit weary around us."

"I hate to say it but I think Tessa's right," Duncan said. "You're the only one he's not scared of."

"Sure, I'll bring him around," Connor said, "After we get him home it should be smooth sailing."

"I hope so," Duncan replied, "This is crazy."

"Yes it is and it better not happen again," Connor told him, "Because if it does I'm going to come looking for you and I'll beat your ears off."

Duncan chose to ignore that, and at that time the doctor who had taken Richie to the OR came up to them.

"How is he?" Tessa asked, "Is he allright?"

"He's just been wheeled out of surgery, he'll be fine."

"How bad was it?" Connor asked.

"Surprisingly enough, it wasn't as bad as we thought, I've been working in this hospital for 20 years and rarely have I seen an appendix that hasn't ruptured yet."

"What?" Tessa asked.

"Occasionally we get some patients in who show perfect symptoms of appendicitis and the diagnosis will turn it up, but the appendix appears to be in fine condition. All the same we don't bother in taking chances, so we removed it so it _doesn't_ become anything worse."

"When can we see him?" Tessa wanted to know.

"The anesthetic's wearing off, he'll come around soon, by then I recommend he doesn't get too many visitors at a time."

"That's allright, we already drew straws," Connor said.

* * *

Even being Immortal, Connor hated hospitals, and he especially hated the patients' rooms, bleach white and filled with the nauseating aroma of Lysol and for a place where a patient was supposed to relax and recover, machines that made so much noise it could drive someone crazy. Amazingly enough, Richie was still asleep despite it all—he looked terrible, but then again Connor reminded himself, nobody looked good after surgery, and this wasn't even a surgery _to_ make him look better.

He approached the bed and stood by the side, looking Richie over. A day, two days, he could be back home where he belonged, not in this nightmare facility. He felt Richie's forehead, normal temperature once again.

"Thank God."

And he became aware of two tired eyes looking up at him. "Uncle Connor?"

He smiled, "Yeah, it's me, kid. How're you feeling?"

Richie moved his head back and his eyes looked too far up for his comfort and immediately regretted it, "What happened?"

"They just brought you out of surgery, 10 to 1 says you're the best patient they've had all day, too exhausted to complain," Connor said.

"Surgery?" Richie tried to comprehend what he was hearing, "Surgery for what?"

"Did they put you on a horse's painkiller?" Connor asked, "They took your appendix out, didn't the doctors tell you?"

"I don't remember."

"It doesn't matter, it's over, and you're allright, and that reminds me," Connor pulled back the covers and grabbed the bottom of Richie's hospital gown.

"W-What're you doing?" he asked.

"I'm going to make sure nobody did a shoddy job of sewing you up," Connor explained, "That'll be the next thing, they take something out, then when they close you up you pop back open again."

Richie drew his knees up to his stomach and immediately regretted that too, "Don't."

"Cut me a little slack here, Richie, anything you've got I've already seen a thousand times in my life," Connor told him, "What's the matter with you? A perfect stranger can make you as hairless as a cat with the mange, but you won't let your own uncle check to make sure everything's allright?"

"It's embarrassing," Richie replied.

"Not half as embarrassing as what I _could_ do if you don't let me look," Connor replied, "Just cooperate and it'll be over with quickly."

Richie did as he was told, but he looked the other way because _he_ didn't want to see what they had done to him. After a quick look, Connor made a sound like he came to a conclusion.

"What is it?" Richie asked.

"Not even Frankenstein's monster was put together this well."

Overall Richie was basically numb, but he could definitely feel the heat in his face picking up. "Glad you're enjoying the view."

Connor put the bottom half of his gown back into place and drew the covers up again. "There are two people in the waiting room who are waiting to see you too."

"Oh boy."

"Richie, you're not going to start that again."

"When will the doctors let me out of here?"

"Tomorrow I think."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yours was a rather rare case for them, they'd like to keep you here for observation."

"What do you mean rare case?"

"Most people when they have appendicitis, they don't get to the hospital until after it's ruptured, sometimes days or weeks after—yours didn't even show any sign of nearing rupture, so they were able to remove it prematurely so it won't happen again."

"Oh," Richie fell back against the pillows, "Connor?"

"Yes, Richie?"

"Just out of curiosity, they don't grow back do they?"

"What?" Connor almost fell down laughing.

"Well, some people have their tonsils taken out, and they grow back and have to be removed again."

"This is true, but I am well over 400 years old and I have _never_ heard of an appendix growing back, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Good, I don't want to go through this again, any of it."

"Believe me you won't."

Richie started to lay back against he pillows again but Connor wouldn't let him. "What're you doing?" he wanted to know.

"One thing I know is that after the surgery, it's wise for an appendectomy patient to start moving again soon."

"Connor—"

"Nothing strenuous, just enough to get you walking around again, come on, I'll help you up."

"I don't like this."

Connor paid him no mind and pulled him up out of bed, and now Richie was wishing he was still knocked out. Every part of him was hurting, and Connor dragging him around the bed several times didn't do much to help the matter either. After about the fifth go-around, Connor helped Richie back into bed.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Richie said.

"You'll be fine, it's important to get moving again soon, even if it hurts. Now, I'm going to go get Duncan and Tessa and tell them they can come in, and I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay."

Connor shut the door behind him, and after he had gone, Richie decided to see for himself just _what_ the doctors had done to him. So he hiked up his gown, pulled back the bandages and when he saw the result of their work, he suddenly became very tired very quickly.

* * *

Sure enough, Richie was ready to head for home the next day, but even though the danger was past, Duncan and Tessa still worried. Over the past 18 hours, Richie could barely stay awake long enough to even see them, and before they could really start talking to him he was asleep again. Of course they weren't panicking just yet, they credited his fatigue to several things, the anesthetic, the shock of the whole ordeal, the stress of the before day's activities, and the realization of what he had done to Felicia finally hitting him like a ton of bricks.

They had gotten Richie home and into bed, and now they just waited for him to come around again, and stay awake longer than two minutes. They had a long wait, all of the morning and part of the afternoon, and while they were still waiting, they had a visitor. Connor was greeted momentarily at the door with the blade of Duncan's sword.

"I didn't think you'd be coming around," Duncan said.

"Oh sure, I brought back Richie's things, although I suggest running them through the washer and the vacuum to make sure there's no glass left in any of it. So how is he?"

"He's been sleeping like a baby all day," Tessa replied, "We can't even get him to wake up to eat."

"Maybe I can help, what's on his menu after the operation?" Connor asked.

"Not much, he won't be eating much until about tomorrow."

They reached the loft and Connor asked, "Meantime what's he getting?"

Tessa crossed over to the kitchen and came back with a bowl of lime Jell-o, the sight of it was unappetizing even to Connor, but his gritted his teeth and took the bowl. "Don't worry, I'll get him to eat this if I have to do it with a screwdriver and a plunger."

"Well I hope you have better luck than we did," Duncan said, "I'm worried about him."

"As anybody lucid would be," Connor replied, "But relax, I'm here now, I've had a bit more experience with children than both of you put together have, I'll just put my magic touch to work and we'll see what happens."

Connor headed to Richie's bedroom and showed himself in. Richie was still asleep and showed no sign of waking up anytime soon. Connor headed over to the bed and shook Richie's shoulder, "You really this tired, kid?"

And Richie looked up at him. "Hi Connor."

"How're you feeling, kid?"

"Tired."

"Tired enough to sleep all night and all day? Or are you just trying to get out of having to eat?"

Richie groaned and tried turning on his side, "I'm not hungry."

"Yeah, I imagine, but you have to eat otherwise you'll go right back to the hospital," Connor said.

"What is it?" Richie asked.

"Nothing you would've picked, however it's doctor's orders, once you eat this junk and it proves your body can handle food again, then we can get you on some real stuff," Connor said.

"I'll try."

Connor handed him the bowl and watched as he struggled with himself to actually eat.

"Can I trust that fatigue is not the sole reason you've slept so long?" Connor asked.

"What?"

"I know you haven't talked to them yet, and why not? Are you still afraid?"

Richie didn't answer him, he didn't need to, hanging his head in shame and defeat said it all.

"You don't have anything to be embarrassed about, Richie, there are close to six billion people on this planet, and every single one of them is afraid, and more than not of stuff they don't need to be."

"I just don't know, Connor, you think I'm in the clear but maybe I'm not."

"Richie, I'll have you know that for the past 34 hours, Duncan has been in the doghouse with everybody, and now that he's starting to get out, he's not about to put himself back there. He doesn't have a single cross word in his whole vocabulary to say to you right now and even if he did he knows I'd make sure he suffered for it."

Richie had given up on trying to eat and now his hands were trying to wring all life out of each other. "I know, I know, I figured that they wouldn't be giving me as good of treatment as they are if they were going to throw me out. But I just can't talk to him yet, I can't."

"Are you really that afraid?" Connor asked.

"Every time I think about it, I want to throw up."

Connor gently stroked the top of Richie's head and tried to calm him down. "Richie, I promise you that nothing bad is going to happen—if it'll make you feel any better, I could be here when you talk to him."

Richie shook his head. "I'll—I'll—I'll do it, Connor, but not tonight, please."

"Allright, but don't let too much time pass, it only makes it harder to talk, especially to someone like Duncan."

Richie nodded. "I will, but I just can't do it tonight."

"That's fair enough, another day or so should probably do it."

Richie nodded again.

"Now, are you going to eat or am I going to have to feed you?" Connor asked.

"You're relentless, Connor, you know that?" Richie asked.

"That's Uncle Connor to you, and yes, when you live as long as I have, you get told that quite often."


End file.
